Collectormania 5
May. 3rd, 2004 02:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenor what happens when Hathor, Osiris and Raven decide going to a con three weeks before their AS-levels is a really, really good idea.
Oh, god, so tired. I am home again and completely and utterly shattered. But yeah.. totally worth it. The con was fantastic. I can’t believe I nearly didn’t go. I can’t believe Clare nearly didn’t go. I spent much of the weekend drugged, sleep-deprived, high on caffeine and in extreme states of squee, and it was brilliant. I love fandom and I love my friends. So, here goes:
Day 1
or, everywhere important is in Lancashire
Friday. I ran out of school at ten to two, escaping AS Theatre Studies chaos with scarcely a backwards look. I was still in a state of ohmygod am I really doing this? when I got home, got my stuff together, had one last look on LJ and set off again. I suppose at that point everything was fairly normal – I was wearing my favourite ratty old jeans and carrying a Pucca bag full of stuff (travelling light), and feeling comfortable – and once I got to Central, I more or less skipped across the city. At least, I would have done had I not been carrying so much stuff, and when I got to Lime Street, Clare (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
osiris13) was already there. She and I killed time by comparing notes on our days, and fairly soon Colleen (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hathy_col) appeared, followed by my mother who was in a hurry. She left me with a camera battery, a meal deal bag from Boots, “Have fun and be careful!” and then she went off again.
More time to kill. So Clare, Colleen and I sat at a table outside Costa and shared a very large chocolate muffin. We didn’t know it at the time, but this was something we were going to get used to. At length we had to move ourselves and get settled on the train, and we killed the next hour just talking about all kinds of stuff. It was still light then, and as the train trundled out of the cuttings, over the estuary and off to the mysterious land known as Down South, we covered just about every subject under the sun. To Colleen’s and my endless bemusement, Clare does Maths and Further Maths for A-level. We were once again asking her how she does it, and she answered: “It’s always reliable. Two plus two is always four.”
“Usually,” I said.
“Usually?” she asked. “When is it not?”
Colleen jumped in. “When the plus sign is moved over to become a times sign, and you get a completely different… oh.”
Clare and I were still laughing about it ten minutes later.
The train trundled into Oxford Road shortly after that, and we gathered our stuff together to make the jump to the platform at Manchester Piccadilly. In the spirit of inspired incompetence, we couldn’t figure out what platform we were on. We knew we had to get to the York train, and we knew where that was, but were currently unaware as to where in the world we were.
Thankfully, there is a reason Clare is always the map reader on D of E, and she successfully guided us through the station (fittingly, we were on platform thirteen). I’d never been to Manchester Piccadilly before, and it’s huge. Huge, and really quite beautiful, full of old stonework and glass. Unfortunately we didn’t have much time to admire it. We reached the required platform to find the train was forty-five minutes later, cue much gnashing of teeth. But amazingly, Virgin got their arses into gear and found another train for us. Our tickets said Coach F, so off we went to find it.
We walked down the platform, looking at the signs in the windows. Firstly, Coach A. Then Coach B. Then Coach C. Then D and E. Then Coach G. We went back and checked. Yes, Coach G. A Virgin representative was in order. He told us to get onto Coach G and it would all be all right.
Ladies and gentlemen, this was a declassified train. We were in a first-class carriage. After stepping lightly in, we sat down, dumped our stuff, and with every crackle of the intercom and footstep of the reps, waited to be thrown out. I found it incredibly weird. There we were, travelling light, all wearing jeans and beat-up walking boots, absolutely stereotypical penniless students, and we were sitting at a table with four incredibly comfortable chairs, steady dim lights and even a laptop point.
And we never did get thrown out. In the end I relaxed sufficiently to write an English essay, and Colleen also did homework while Clare read, and it was all very relaxing. I was almost sorry when we got to Milton Keynes.
(A note for the uninitiated – Milton Keynes is named after its architect, and is one of the few pre-designed cities in the country. It was designed to be clean, comfortable and above all, a pleasant place to live. Many people find this amusing.
Everything within these brackets is me paraphrasing Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.)
We had to get a taxi, of course. It was late and we didn’t have much of an idea where we were, so we walked down to the rank, I presented the address to the driver, and surprisingly enough, he knew where we meant and took us there. The place in question was a generic Holiday Inn, with an added twist. Being penniless students, we really couldn’t pay for the required amount of accommodation, so we were forced to resort to the time-honoured method of squishing three people into a twin room. This meant Clare had to linger while Colleen and I checked in, and then we retrieved her before finding our way. Which means Clare found our way while Colleen and I made helpful noises. There was a slight mishap involving light switches, but we made it in the end.
For a while, we just sat there, marvelling at the fact we’d made it this far without any major disasters. Then we started getting hungry. We made coffee, and then Clare and Colleen discovered I’d never had a Pot Noodle. Well, I hadn’t. So we made them. Well, tried to.
In the infamous Pot Noodle Incident #1, Clare dropped the powdery stuff all over the floor. Into the carpet. Eek. So we went for it with tissues and cloths and when that didn’t work, Colleen got out the spork. The spork. The Spork Of Thor. And proceeded to try and get the Pot Noodle out of the carpet with it.
We managed, sort of. But having eaten the two Pot Noodles (not three – students, remember) Colleen knocked over the soupy stuff. Which went into the carpet, and was later referred to as Pot Noodle Incident #2. Following that clean-up operation, I had a look around at the room, and said something approximating, “We’ve been here… what? Twenty minutes?”
I left a note on the carpet for the maid.
We’re really really sorry. It was a Pot Noodle.
Again, sorry,
The Occupants.
We had to go to bed shortly after that, pushing two single beds together with Clare on one side, Colleen on the other, and me falling down the crack in the middle.
An auspicious start, all told.
Day 2
or, the adventures of Labadal
Three mobile phones went off at seven o’clock the next morning. Well, so I’m told. In case it’s never been explicitly stated before within these pages, I am a very heavy sleeper. Very heavy indeed. My first inkling of dawn was Colleen giving me a kick. “Iona, you have to get up.”
“No,” I told my pillow.
“I’m going to be aggressively cheerful at you until you do!” (Colleen said that, not the pillow.)
She had already had a shower. She’s a morning person, which worries me. I stayed in bed as long as humanly possible before stumbling into the bathroom. When I stumbled back out again, Colleen took one look and said, “Do you want a coffee?”
“Yes!” I yelled, and sat on the floor to drink it.
Some time later, Colleen and I stole some bread rolls from breakfast, we got another taxi and the three of us went to the place. We were really too early. It was only about ten past eight in the morning, and we were wandering round the shopping centre in quiet bemusement as the crew set up for the con. Around that point, I felt my ankle beginning to give me trouble. It’s been all right for the last few days, but on Friday, I did something to it again and reawakened the old trouble. Anyway, I said as much to Colleen and Clare. Who had the inspired idea of putting me in a wheelchair. I’m serious. We went to make the requisite arrangements, only to find they’d run out of wheelchairs. So we booked one for Sunday, and I hobbled out into the con area.
The guests started arriving at about ten in the morning, but the queues never got unreasonable because they were running what they called a virtual queuing system. It’s like the ones you get in theme parks and suchlike; basically, they give you a ticket with a number on it. Then you go away and do what you want, and join a short queue when your number is called. It’s simple and easy. So we got tickets for Corin Nemec, Jake Lloyd and Ray Park.
Our first tickets were the earliest, so we went to see Corin Nemec first. It was surreal in the extreme. To start with, he really doesn’t look like Jonas. Which sounds stupid, but it’s true. To start with, his hair is much longer (cute, though) and Colleen has this thing about his cheekbones. Which I’m not sure I really understand. In any case, we got his autograph, and Colleen and Clare got autographs from Ray Park (Darth Maul; Toad) who was really very nice, and Jake Lloyd (Anakin Skywalker), who… wasn’t.
And after that we went shopping. I really like dealers’ rooms because of the people as well as the stuff they sell, and this was no exception. There were lots of people and stalls, set up in a criss-cross pattern which made the whole set-up very busy and friendly. The first thing we saw when we were going round was a really really cool Stargate print. It wasn’t the usual thing you get – the team, the Stargate, etc. It was against a rainbow background and it was from 1969! Complete with silly clothes and rose-tinted glasses! I think we all three fell in love with it, but Clare bought it (the last one). She says she has no idea where to put it, but had to buy it. As I said, one of us would have done.
That wasn’t the stall we spent the most time at, as it happened. There was another one, where we looked at a lot of stuff and Colleen bought a t-shirt. It’s white, with black cuffs and neckline, and the word “geek” stencilled on it. Above that is a greyed-out graphic that I couldn’t recognise at first, but then realised was the Enterprise in profile! It’s rather cool. The woman who sold it to her turned out to be very nice. She gave Colleen the t-shirt a bit cheaper than the actual price, and I asked her name. It was also Clare, which we found amusing. Clare actually bought something from her later – a patch emblazoned with the words “smeghead.”
I didn’t buy anything then. The only things I really lingered over were the geek t-shirt and something I saw on a comics stall, of all places: an unusual hardback edition of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, subtitled Endless Nights. I picked it up a few times, but didn’t take the plunge. It was lunchtime by then anyway, so off we went again into the breach.
At a sandwich shop a little way past the dealers’ bit, we metflickerswitch and mettanna, who are more commonly known as Liz and Sidg. I liked them instantly; they are both very voluble and funny, and also went to see Corin Nemec. We were only with them long enough to exchange greetings and general squeeage, before running off again. Not running in my case. My ankle was really hurting by this point, and I was quite literally hobbling and leaning all my weight on Clare and Colleen, who were both very patient about the whole thing. We went off for another slow hobble round the dealers’ bit, when I suggested we go round to look at some of the artwork. While we were going round there, a man touched Colleen on the shoulder and said, “Excuse me.”
We all looked up, and it was Corin Nemec! He was being harangued by an incredibly scary man in a green jacket, and we lingered. When scary man had gone, Colleen addressed him. “Please don’t think all sci-fi fans are like that.”
He laughed (he really was nice!) and said he didn’t think that, and he was just going for lunch. We managed to make conversation, eventually, and Colleen offered him our cookies, which he declined. He then threatened us with a zat gun (which was much more exciting than it sounds) and Colleen then said, “We’ll stop stalking you now.”
He laughed again, said he didn’t mind, and gave Clare a hug. We walked calmly off.
Once we’d gone round the corner, we all turned to face each other and simultaneously exclaimed, “Squeee!”
We actually rang Emily just so we’d have someone to tell about it. We managed to tell everyone about it – Liz, Sidg, and even Pervy Mora, who is very pervy. She is one of Colleen’s friends, something of a LotR fangirl, claims to have seen my LJ (I’m scared) and came accompanied by others. One of whom was dressed as a goth!elf with vibrant red hair, and her name was Raven. We were sitting outside Costa, talking, which would have been a lot of fun were it not for the fact that by this point I literally couldn’t walk. I leaned, limped and hobbled, and finally Clare had had enough. Against my will, she picked me up and piggybacked me through John Lewis. And that was frankly terrifying for all concerned.
One of the reasons Colleen was so excited by this con was her chance to meet Brian Blessed. I may be a heathen, but I have no idea who he is. Nevertheless, we queued up with her to get his autograph. I was leaning heavily on both my friends, trying not to make them support my entire bodyweight, and we made our slow and jerky way to the front of the queue when her ticket number came up on the board. As we got closer to the front, John Billingsley (Dr Phlox in Enterprise, and the Star Trek geek guy Coombes in Stargate (The Other Guys)) looked across and yelled, “Are you drunk?!”
“No!” we yelled back. “I’ve damaged my ligaments!” I added.
Brian Blessed found this entirely hilarious. “Chop the other leg off, then you’ll be even,” he suggested.
“No!” I told him, although Colleen and Clare were tempted.
“I’ll sign your cast!” John Billingsley called.
I hopped across and managed to fall over again. “I haven’t got one,” I told him.
He signed my jeans. My favourite jeans, the ones with the rusty zips, have John Billingsley’s signature across them in blue marker pen. We (well, he) made so much noise that heads in all the queues were craning to look at us. Even the other guests were turning. As Colleen put it later, “Buffy, Dr Crusher, Dr Phlox, Voyager’s Doctor, Brian Blessed and Chewbacca all think we’re insane.”
The squeeage after this incident was astronomical. Ohmygodsquee. We didn’t ring Emily again (she would have killed us!) but told Sidg and Liz, and Colleen told her mum, and later on I told Becca. It is without a doubt the most bizarre thing that has ever happened to me. I can never wash my jeans again.
Before we left, I somehow acquired a Wormhole X-treme patch (to replace the one I lost at SG-5) and I did buy the Sandman in the end. However, mine were not the most outrageous purchases of the day. For reasons that may never become clear, Colleen went back to see Clare (not our Clare – the dealer Clare) and asked to buy a life-size cardboard cut-out of Miranda Otto as Eowyn (in full shieldmaiden regalia, no less). Clare was so nice – she told her to go to the stall next door, where she’d get it cheaper! So nice. Colleen duly did, and bought it. Why she bought it, I still don’t know. Every time I saw it, I started to laugh. It folded up into two pieces and was wrapped in plastic, which only made me laugh harder.
On our way out, I was doing the hobbling and limping thing when we met even more people.angellemyst and misssimm, to be more specific, and they are generally known as Ash and Clara. They are in fact Emily’s friends, and I’m sure Emily would have made a much better impression than three resident lunatics and a life-size cardboard cut-out of Miranda Otto. Now I look back, we must have presented such a weird sight. Follow the trail of destruction, and there’s us at the end of it. Nevertheless, we managed to make conversation without scaring anyone, and it was nice to meet them both.
The day ended with our going back to the hotel room, dumping our stuff, and eventually going out to eat at a restaurant across the road. We didn’t really have much money, and Clare did complex maths on the napkin, but it was quiet and fun. I finished reading Vernon God Little and Colleen finished A Hat Full of Sky. Much fun was had by all.
Day 3
or, remember us?
Another early start did wonders for my state of mind, as you can probably guess. We had to steal bread rolls from breakfast again, and when we went outside to wait for transport of some sort, we were met by a lot of people wearing Collectormania crew t-shirts. Most of whom seemed to know who I was. “How’s the ankle?” yelled one woman.
I nodded and smiled a lot that morning.
Colleen and I checked out, dumped our stuff, and off we went again. Because of its being Sunday, they wouldn’t let us in as early this time. So we had to queue outside, and it was wet and windy, but the point is no-one minded. That right there is what I love about cons – no-one minds anything. We stood out there, talking, laughing, generally making exhibitions of ourselves, and I took the chance to once again propound my theory that in Lifeboat, the engineer Tryan stuck in Daniel’s body is in fact Arnold Rimmer.
This gave Colleen the opportunity to sing the song. “Arnold, Arnold, Arnold Rimmer…”
It stayed in my head, even as she told the story of a bloke at her dad’s work who is also called Rimmer, and despite having never seen Red Dwarf, has to cope with people giving him Rimmeresque salutes all the time.
Just as my internal voices were launching into another chorus of the Arnold Rimmer song, Liz and Sidg arrived. They brought music and more insanity with them. Liz played the Time Warp and then the YMCA, in an attempt to make Colleen dance. It was marginally successful, as she once again tried to teach me the Macarena. I have to admit, it will be the end of an era if she ever successfully teaches me to do it.
We then played Hey Jude (Scouser anthem, natch) and the Stargate theme and also that amazing song for which I do not know the title that is Leonard Nimoy singing, “Bilbo (Bilbo!) Bilbo Baggins, he’s only three feet tall!”
I’ve seen the video for that. Even without Mr Spock’s ears, it is scary.
When they let us in, we queued up to see Craig Parker, who played Haldir in LotR and is thus one of the many recipients of Colleen’s elf fetish. We had to linger in that queue for quite some time, and it was cold and I was in pain, and I was still enjoying myself. But once we’d got the tickets, we went to get the wheelchair. There were added complications where that was concerned – they didn’t open ‘til late, and we had to go back more than once, but we got the damn thing in the end. Before that, Clare and Colleen got Craig Parker’s autograph. I have to admit, we really did not come across well. To start with, Colleen had lost the little green slip that’s so vitally important when getting autographs, and she was panicking about it and didn’t get the chance to talk to him properly. To make things worse, I opened my bag to get out my camera and in doing so pulled my phone out with it, which fell to the floor and smashed. We were all very distracted, but he was so nice. He got up, picked up my phone bits and slowly, calmly, put them back together. I found Colleen’s green slip when I was scrabbling on the floor, and he signed her picture. And then he let us take a photo of him, and he was so calm, so nice, while we were one big walking disaster area. Clare commented later that she was the normal one.
We were shortly to let go of any shreds of normality when they put me in the wheelchair. I’d never so much as sat in one before, which made it an interesting experience. So interesting, in fact, that Clare is thinking of making it her psychology coursework. If I may digress a little, the first thing we all noticed is the fact people’s eyes slip over someone in a wheelchair. They don’t make eye contact. I was in the privileged position of being perfectly in command of my faculties and able to observe people’s reactions. Clare was pushing me, because Colleen was statistically more likely to bump into things.
[The conversation went as follows:
“I’ll push,” Clare said. “Remember that time I pushed Michelle…”
“…into the Thames,” Colleen finished.
“Almost! I didn’t actually push her in!”
“Let Clare push,” I interjected.
“Into the Thames?”
“Only if she pushes really hard…”]
I’m not casting aspersions on Clare’s skill at pushing wheelchairs (she was very efficient), but we were in a packed dealers’ area and people did get in our way as we did in theirs. Clare nudged me. “They don’t apologise to you. They apologise to me.”
I paid attention next time we walked into someone, and she was absolutely right. Invariably, people said sorry to Clare, or Colleen if she was pushing. Almost as if they didn’t expect me to understand. It was different if they’d heard us talking, because somehow or other we set the tone. Clare and Colleen were obviously treating me as they always do – insults, squeeage and much laughter – and upon seeing that, people we met were more likely to talk to me straight. It was interesting, and Clare made mental notes as we were going along. Actually, the wheelchair proved to have unexpected benefits. It provided a talking point wherever we went, made a useful battering ram in crowds of people, and let me enjoy myself properly without leaning on my friends too much.
Equipped with wheelchair, we went to see Corin Nemec again, mainly because Colleen had forgotten the poster she wanted signing the previous trip. It was a German one that was auctioned at SG-6 (Colin Cunningham gave her twenty quid for it!) and it provided a bit of discussion, as did the wheelchair. We got some pictures of him, assured him we wouldn’t feed him cookies this time, and wheeled off.
Clare wanted a Teal’c picture, so off we went to find one. We found a rather cool stall, where there was lots of stuff, and Clare found her Teal’c picture. Colleen bought a Stargate picture too – Daniel, Sam and Teal’c in (I kid you not) Charlie’s Angels mode. She has promised to scan it in, so we shall see. It was very funny, so we stood (or sat, in my case) and giggled and looked around. We also got something for Emily, which hopefully she will like.
We went to see John Billingsley again, of course. I didn’t have much money (mainly because I bought the geek t-shirt) so we went up to the crew, told them the story of what happened the day before, and asked if they thought he would mind if we asked him for a picture. The crew found it very amusing and waved us through. He didn’t mind at all. “Remember us?” I said.
“Of course!” he yelled. He shouted a lot, actually. I told him about never washing my jeans again, and he laughed. He gleefully agreed to letting us take pictures of him, and I can’t wait ‘til they’re developed – they’re completely and utterly surreal. We thanked him, he shouted and laughed some more, and then we attempted to get out again. The wheelchair was a bit of a hindrance, so the crew removed the barriers and let us out past Brian Blessed. Who remembered us. “You again! Get the hell out of here!”
“We’re going!” I yelled back, and Clare executed a neat three point turn and swung us out of there. Colleen turned to me. “Iona, you should break your leg every convention.”
I laughed until I couldn’t breathe.
The truly ironic thing, as I noted later, is that I still have very little idea who Brian Blessed is. But he knows who I am!
The last person whose autograph we got was Brad Dourrif. Because I am not a Lord of the Rings fangirl, I have very little idea as to who he is. But Clare and Colleen went to see him, and he also appeared intrigued by the wheelchair. He was very nice, though, as everyone was. We didn’t meet a single person who wasn’t nice.
I wanted to finish off my film and so did Colleen, and so went off to take some more pictures. We went to see Clare-the-dealer again, assured her she was an integral part of our convention experience (which she was – she didn’t have to be so nice to us) and I took a picture of a sign in her shop:
Ferengi Rule #1 – Once you have money, don’t give it back.
Beats “no refunds” by a long shot.
A few pictures and goodbyes later, we left. We had to return the wheelchair first, of course, and I found I could walk with a minimal limp. I suppose on any ordinary day, I wouldn’t have needed the wheelchair. But in this kind of chaotic situation, it came in very useful.
Colleen and I had to pick up all our stuff before going to the station, and we were all pleased at the idea we were never caught by the hotel staff. As far as they know, only two (incredibly messy) people stayed in the room during the weekend. We grabbed Clare’s stuff as well as our own, and I couldn’t help giggling as Colleen picked up her cardboard cut-out. “You’re a fangirl too!” she protested. “You know Remus Lupin’s middle name!”
“Everyone does,” I pointed out, and she conceded.
“This is true.”
We arrived at the station rather early. Our original plan was to take the train to Birmingham International, and then change for Liverpool there. But there was a direct train to Liverpool that we were in time to catch, and Virgin were quite astonishingly helpful. Yes, we could take that train, they said. So we jumped on. Before we did that, though, we walked past a girl on the station platform who called, “Eowyn!”
We all turned round. Colleen explained the story of the cardboard cut-out. Of course, the girl (we never found out her name) had been to the con, and we exchanged notes on Corin Nemec, and I wish we had found out her name, but at that point the train came in.
We spent the journey in relative quiet. We were going to finish organising everything, but really, we operated under a general philosophy of what’s-yours-is-mine throughout. In the end, we gave up trying to figure out who owed what to whom, and generally assumed it all came out even. Colleen got Clare her birthday present (Brad Dourrif’s autograph), despite the fact Clare’s birthday is in November, and the shared Frescatto (ice-milkshake type things from Costa) bill was similarly something of a write-off. It was actually rather nice. I now owe Colleen a tenner and a lot of drinks.
We were all reading Discworld, as it happened. Colleen was reading The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents, Clare was reading Carpe Juggulum and I was reading A Hat Full of Sky (it’s Colleen’s – I’m borrowing it). I think we ought to go to a Discworld con at some point. We’d already decided that we are definitely going to the next (and possibly last) Wolf Stargate con, and possibly Collectormania 7. Because it was a wonderful experience, it really was. I was almost regretting my decision to go a week ago, thinking it might not be fun, but I was so wrong. All three of us enjoyed ourselves hugely, spent pretty much the whole time squeeing, and ohmygod met Jonas Quinn and Dr Phlox. Other people have fat pants. I have fandom pants.
At length, the train stopped passing through fields with cows and started passing through industrial areas. “Back to the north,” I said, and with feeling because earlier, Colleen had been gently teasing me about my lack of understanding of the fact I am a northerner. “I’m beginning to talk like you,” she said.
“I don’t have an accent,” I argued.
“No, but you have perfect received pronunciation.”
Maybe she’s right. She got me to say “bath” and “grass” and “laugh” and despaired each time. But even I know the difference between north and south, and the train passed over the division late in the evening. It coasted to a stop at Liverpool Lime Street, and I spotted my parents in the distance, waving. On my way down the platform, I looked across at my friends and saw, as if for the first time, a life-size cardboard cut-out of Miranda Otto.
In the end, we were all falling about laughing. With hugs, promises of meeting soon and paying back the money and books I owe, we took leave of each other. Having spent three days in each other’s company, you might expect us to be sick of each other, but we really weren’t. I was still laughing when Colleen and Clare had disappeared into the distance.
After all that, school and ordinary life once more, and all my waitressing money is more or less gone. But it was worth it. Always worth it.
Oh, god, so tired. I am home again and completely and utterly shattered. But yeah.. totally worth it. The con was fantastic. I can’t believe I nearly didn’t go. I can’t believe Clare nearly didn’t go. I spent much of the weekend drugged, sleep-deprived, high on caffeine and in extreme states of squee, and it was brilliant. I love fandom and I love my friends. So, here goes:
Day 1
or, everywhere important is in Lancashire
Friday. I ran out of school at ten to two, escaping AS Theatre Studies chaos with scarcely a backwards look. I was still in a state of ohmygod am I really doing this? when I got home, got my stuff together, had one last look on LJ and set off again. I suppose at that point everything was fairly normal – I was wearing my favourite ratty old jeans and carrying a Pucca bag full of stuff (travelling light), and feeling comfortable – and once I got to Central, I more or less skipped across the city. At least, I would have done had I not been carrying so much stuff, and when I got to Lime Street, Clare (
osiris13) was already there. She and I killed time by comparing notes on our days, and fairly soon Colleen (hathy_col) appeared, followed by my mother who was in a hurry. She left me with a camera battery, a meal deal bag from Boots, “Have fun and be careful!” and then she went off again.More time to kill. So Clare, Colleen and I sat at a table outside Costa and shared a very large chocolate muffin. We didn’t know it at the time, but this was something we were going to get used to. At length we had to move ourselves and get settled on the train, and we killed the next hour just talking about all kinds of stuff. It was still light then, and as the train trundled out of the cuttings, over the estuary and off to the mysterious land known as Down South, we covered just about every subject under the sun. To Colleen’s and my endless bemusement, Clare does Maths and Further Maths for A-level. We were once again asking her how she does it, and she answered: “It’s always reliable. Two plus two is always four.”
“Usually,” I said.
“Usually?” she asked. “When is it not?”
Colleen jumped in. “When the plus sign is moved over to become a times sign, and you get a completely different… oh.”
Clare and I were still laughing about it ten minutes later.
The train trundled into Oxford Road shortly after that, and we gathered our stuff together to make the jump to the platform at Manchester Piccadilly. In the spirit of inspired incompetence, we couldn’t figure out what platform we were on. We knew we had to get to the York train, and we knew where that was, but were currently unaware as to where in the world we were.
Thankfully, there is a reason Clare is always the map reader on D of E, and she successfully guided us through the station (fittingly, we were on platform thirteen). I’d never been to Manchester Piccadilly before, and it’s huge. Huge, and really quite beautiful, full of old stonework and glass. Unfortunately we didn’t have much time to admire it. We reached the required platform to find the train was forty-five minutes later, cue much gnashing of teeth. But amazingly, Virgin got their arses into gear and found another train for us. Our tickets said Coach F, so off we went to find it.
We walked down the platform, looking at the signs in the windows. Firstly, Coach A. Then Coach B. Then Coach C. Then D and E. Then Coach G. We went back and checked. Yes, Coach G. A Virgin representative was in order. He told us to get onto Coach G and it would all be all right.
Ladies and gentlemen, this was a declassified train. We were in a first-class carriage. After stepping lightly in, we sat down, dumped our stuff, and with every crackle of the intercom and footstep of the reps, waited to be thrown out. I found it incredibly weird. There we were, travelling light, all wearing jeans and beat-up walking boots, absolutely stereotypical penniless students, and we were sitting at a table with four incredibly comfortable chairs, steady dim lights and even a laptop point.
And we never did get thrown out. In the end I relaxed sufficiently to write an English essay, and Colleen also did homework while Clare read, and it was all very relaxing. I was almost sorry when we got to Milton Keynes.
(A note for the uninitiated – Milton Keynes is named after its architect, and is one of the few pre-designed cities in the country. It was designed to be clean, comfortable and above all, a pleasant place to live. Many people find this amusing.
Everything within these brackets is me paraphrasing Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.)
We had to get a taxi, of course. It was late and we didn’t have much of an idea where we were, so we walked down to the rank, I presented the address to the driver, and surprisingly enough, he knew where we meant and took us there. The place in question was a generic Holiday Inn, with an added twist. Being penniless students, we really couldn’t pay for the required amount of accommodation, so we were forced to resort to the time-honoured method of squishing three people into a twin room. This meant Clare had to linger while Colleen and I checked in, and then we retrieved her before finding our way. Which means Clare found our way while Colleen and I made helpful noises. There was a slight mishap involving light switches, but we made it in the end.
For a while, we just sat there, marvelling at the fact we’d made it this far without any major disasters. Then we started getting hungry. We made coffee, and then Clare and Colleen discovered I’d never had a Pot Noodle. Well, I hadn’t. So we made them. Well, tried to.
In the infamous Pot Noodle Incident #1, Clare dropped the powdery stuff all over the floor. Into the carpet. Eek. So we went for it with tissues and cloths and when that didn’t work, Colleen got out the spork. The spork. The Spork Of Thor. And proceeded to try and get the Pot Noodle out of the carpet with it.
We managed, sort of. But having eaten the two Pot Noodles (not three – students, remember) Colleen knocked over the soupy stuff. Which went into the carpet, and was later referred to as Pot Noodle Incident #2. Following that clean-up operation, I had a look around at the room, and said something approximating, “We’ve been here… what? Twenty minutes?”
I left a note on the carpet for the maid.
We’re really really sorry. It was a Pot Noodle.
Again, sorry,
The Occupants.
We had to go to bed shortly after that, pushing two single beds together with Clare on one side, Colleen on the other, and me falling down the crack in the middle.
An auspicious start, all told.
Day 2
or, the adventures of Labadal
Three mobile phones went off at seven o’clock the next morning. Well, so I’m told. In case it’s never been explicitly stated before within these pages, I am a very heavy sleeper. Very heavy indeed. My first inkling of dawn was Colleen giving me a kick. “Iona, you have to get up.”
“No,” I told my pillow.
“I’m going to be aggressively cheerful at you until you do!” (Colleen said that, not the pillow.)
She had already had a shower. She’s a morning person, which worries me. I stayed in bed as long as humanly possible before stumbling into the bathroom. When I stumbled back out again, Colleen took one look and said, “Do you want a coffee?”
“Yes!” I yelled, and sat on the floor to drink it.
Some time later, Colleen and I stole some bread rolls from breakfast, we got another taxi and the three of us went to the place. We were really too early. It was only about ten past eight in the morning, and we were wandering round the shopping centre in quiet bemusement as the crew set up for the con. Around that point, I felt my ankle beginning to give me trouble. It’s been all right for the last few days, but on Friday, I did something to it again and reawakened the old trouble. Anyway, I said as much to Colleen and Clare. Who had the inspired idea of putting me in a wheelchair. I’m serious. We went to make the requisite arrangements, only to find they’d run out of wheelchairs. So we booked one for Sunday, and I hobbled out into the con area.
The guests started arriving at about ten in the morning, but the queues never got unreasonable because they were running what they called a virtual queuing system. It’s like the ones you get in theme parks and suchlike; basically, they give you a ticket with a number on it. Then you go away and do what you want, and join a short queue when your number is called. It’s simple and easy. So we got tickets for Corin Nemec, Jake Lloyd and Ray Park.
Our first tickets were the earliest, so we went to see Corin Nemec first. It was surreal in the extreme. To start with, he really doesn’t look like Jonas. Which sounds stupid, but it’s true. To start with, his hair is much longer (cute, though) and Colleen has this thing about his cheekbones. Which I’m not sure I really understand. In any case, we got his autograph, and Colleen and Clare got autographs from Ray Park (Darth Maul; Toad) who was really very nice, and Jake Lloyd (Anakin Skywalker), who… wasn’t.
And after that we went shopping. I really like dealers’ rooms because of the people as well as the stuff they sell, and this was no exception. There were lots of people and stalls, set up in a criss-cross pattern which made the whole set-up very busy and friendly. The first thing we saw when we were going round was a really really cool Stargate print. It wasn’t the usual thing you get – the team, the Stargate, etc. It was against a rainbow background and it was from 1969! Complete with silly clothes and rose-tinted glasses! I think we all three fell in love with it, but Clare bought it (the last one). She says she has no idea where to put it, but had to buy it. As I said, one of us would have done.
That wasn’t the stall we spent the most time at, as it happened. There was another one, where we looked at a lot of stuff and Colleen bought a t-shirt. It’s white, with black cuffs and neckline, and the word “geek” stencilled on it. Above that is a greyed-out graphic that I couldn’t recognise at first, but then realised was the Enterprise in profile! It’s rather cool. The woman who sold it to her turned out to be very nice. She gave Colleen the t-shirt a bit cheaper than the actual price, and I asked her name. It was also Clare, which we found amusing. Clare actually bought something from her later – a patch emblazoned with the words “smeghead.”
I didn’t buy anything then. The only things I really lingered over were the geek t-shirt and something I saw on a comics stall, of all places: an unusual hardback edition of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, subtitled Endless Nights. I picked it up a few times, but didn’t take the plunge. It was lunchtime by then anyway, so off we went again into the breach.
At a sandwich shop a little way past the dealers’ bit, we met
flickerswitch and mettanna, who are more commonly known as Liz and Sidg. I liked them instantly; they are both very voluble and funny, and also went to see Corin Nemec. We were only with them long enough to exchange greetings and general squeeage, before running off again. Not running in my case. My ankle was really hurting by this point, and I was quite literally hobbling and leaning all my weight on Clare and Colleen, who were both very patient about the whole thing. We went off for another slow hobble round the dealers’ bit, when I suggested we go round to look at some of the artwork. While we were going round there, a man touched Colleen on the shoulder and said, “Excuse me.”We all looked up, and it was Corin Nemec! He was being harangued by an incredibly scary man in a green jacket, and we lingered. When scary man had gone, Colleen addressed him. “Please don’t think all sci-fi fans are like that.”
He laughed (he really was nice!) and said he didn’t think that, and he was just going for lunch. We managed to make conversation, eventually, and Colleen offered him our cookies, which he declined. He then threatened us with a zat gun (which was much more exciting than it sounds) and Colleen then said, “We’ll stop stalking you now.”
He laughed again, said he didn’t mind, and gave Clare a hug. We walked calmly off.
Once we’d gone round the corner, we all turned to face each other and simultaneously exclaimed, “Squeee!”
We actually rang Emily just so we’d have someone to tell about it. We managed to tell everyone about it – Liz, Sidg, and even Pervy Mora, who is very pervy. She is one of Colleen’s friends, something of a LotR fangirl, claims to have seen my LJ (I’m scared) and came accompanied by others. One of whom was dressed as a goth!elf with vibrant red hair, and her name was Raven. We were sitting outside Costa, talking, which would have been a lot of fun were it not for the fact that by this point I literally couldn’t walk. I leaned, limped and hobbled, and finally Clare had had enough. Against my will, she picked me up and piggybacked me through John Lewis. And that was frankly terrifying for all concerned.
One of the reasons Colleen was so excited by this con was her chance to meet Brian Blessed. I may be a heathen, but I have no idea who he is. Nevertheless, we queued up with her to get his autograph. I was leaning heavily on both my friends, trying not to make them support my entire bodyweight, and we made our slow and jerky way to the front of the queue when her ticket number came up on the board. As we got closer to the front, John Billingsley (Dr Phlox in Enterprise, and the Star Trek geek guy Coombes in Stargate (The Other Guys)) looked across and yelled, “Are you drunk?!”
“No!” we yelled back. “I’ve damaged my ligaments!” I added.
Brian Blessed found this entirely hilarious. “Chop the other leg off, then you’ll be even,” he suggested.
“No!” I told him, although Colleen and Clare were tempted.
“I’ll sign your cast!” John Billingsley called.
I hopped across and managed to fall over again. “I haven’t got one,” I told him.
He signed my jeans. My favourite jeans, the ones with the rusty zips, have John Billingsley’s signature across them in blue marker pen. We (well, he) made so much noise that heads in all the queues were craning to look at us. Even the other guests were turning. As Colleen put it later, “Buffy, Dr Crusher, Dr Phlox, Voyager’s Doctor, Brian Blessed and Chewbacca all think we’re insane.”
The squeeage after this incident was astronomical. Ohmygodsquee. We didn’t ring Emily again (she would have killed us!) but told Sidg and Liz, and Colleen told her mum, and later on I told Becca. It is without a doubt the most bizarre thing that has ever happened to me. I can never wash my jeans again.
Before we left, I somehow acquired a Wormhole X-treme patch (to replace the one I lost at SG-5) and I did buy the Sandman in the end. However, mine were not the most outrageous purchases of the day. For reasons that may never become clear, Colleen went back to see Clare (not our Clare – the dealer Clare) and asked to buy a life-size cardboard cut-out of Miranda Otto as Eowyn (in full shieldmaiden regalia, no less). Clare was so nice – she told her to go to the stall next door, where she’d get it cheaper! So nice. Colleen duly did, and bought it. Why she bought it, I still don’t know. Every time I saw it, I started to laugh. It folded up into two pieces and was wrapped in plastic, which only made me laugh harder.
On our way out, I was doing the hobbling and limping thing when we met even more people.
angellemyst and misssimm, to be more specific, and they are generally known as Ash and Clara. They are in fact Emily’s friends, and I’m sure Emily would have made a much better impression than three resident lunatics and a life-size cardboard cut-out of Miranda Otto. Now I look back, we must have presented such a weird sight. Follow the trail of destruction, and there’s us at the end of it. Nevertheless, we managed to make conversation without scaring anyone, and it was nice to meet them both. The day ended with our going back to the hotel room, dumping our stuff, and eventually going out to eat at a restaurant across the road. We didn’t really have much money, and Clare did complex maths on the napkin, but it was quiet and fun. I finished reading Vernon God Little and Colleen finished A Hat Full of Sky. Much fun was had by all.
Day 3
or, remember us?
Another early start did wonders for my state of mind, as you can probably guess. We had to steal bread rolls from breakfast again, and when we went outside to wait for transport of some sort, we were met by a lot of people wearing Collectormania crew t-shirts. Most of whom seemed to know who I was. “How’s the ankle?” yelled one woman.
I nodded and smiled a lot that morning.
Colleen and I checked out, dumped our stuff, and off we went again. Because of its being Sunday, they wouldn’t let us in as early this time. So we had to queue outside, and it was wet and windy, but the point is no-one minded. That right there is what I love about cons – no-one minds anything. We stood out there, talking, laughing, generally making exhibitions of ourselves, and I took the chance to once again propound my theory that in Lifeboat, the engineer Tryan stuck in Daniel’s body is in fact Arnold Rimmer.
This gave Colleen the opportunity to sing the song. “Arnold, Arnold, Arnold Rimmer…”
It stayed in my head, even as she told the story of a bloke at her dad’s work who is also called Rimmer, and despite having never seen Red Dwarf, has to cope with people giving him Rimmeresque salutes all the time.
Just as my internal voices were launching into another chorus of the Arnold Rimmer song, Liz and Sidg arrived. They brought music and more insanity with them. Liz played the Time Warp and then the YMCA, in an attempt to make Colleen dance. It was marginally successful, as she once again tried to teach me the Macarena. I have to admit, it will be the end of an era if she ever successfully teaches me to do it.
We then played Hey Jude (Scouser anthem, natch) and the Stargate theme and also that amazing song for which I do not know the title that is Leonard Nimoy singing, “Bilbo (Bilbo!) Bilbo Baggins, he’s only three feet tall!”
I’ve seen the video for that. Even without Mr Spock’s ears, it is scary.
When they let us in, we queued up to see Craig Parker, who played Haldir in LotR and is thus one of the many recipients of Colleen’s elf fetish. We had to linger in that queue for quite some time, and it was cold and I was in pain, and I was still enjoying myself. But once we’d got the tickets, we went to get the wheelchair. There were added complications where that was concerned – they didn’t open ‘til late, and we had to go back more than once, but we got the damn thing in the end. Before that, Clare and Colleen got Craig Parker’s autograph. I have to admit, we really did not come across well. To start with, Colleen had lost the little green slip that’s so vitally important when getting autographs, and she was panicking about it and didn’t get the chance to talk to him properly. To make things worse, I opened my bag to get out my camera and in doing so pulled my phone out with it, which fell to the floor and smashed. We were all very distracted, but he was so nice. He got up, picked up my phone bits and slowly, calmly, put them back together. I found Colleen’s green slip when I was scrabbling on the floor, and he signed her picture. And then he let us take a photo of him, and he was so calm, so nice, while we were one big walking disaster area. Clare commented later that she was the normal one.
We were shortly to let go of any shreds of normality when they put me in the wheelchair. I’d never so much as sat in one before, which made it an interesting experience. So interesting, in fact, that Clare is thinking of making it her psychology coursework. If I may digress a little, the first thing we all noticed is the fact people’s eyes slip over someone in a wheelchair. They don’t make eye contact. I was in the privileged position of being perfectly in command of my faculties and able to observe people’s reactions. Clare was pushing me, because Colleen was statistically more likely to bump into things.
[The conversation went as follows:
“I’ll push,” Clare said. “Remember that time I pushed Michelle…”
“…into the Thames,” Colleen finished.
“Almost! I didn’t actually push her in!”
“Let Clare push,” I interjected.
“Into the Thames?”
“Only if she pushes really hard…”]
I’m not casting aspersions on Clare’s skill at pushing wheelchairs (she was very efficient), but we were in a packed dealers’ area and people did get in our way as we did in theirs. Clare nudged me. “They don’t apologise to you. They apologise to me.”
I paid attention next time we walked into someone, and she was absolutely right. Invariably, people said sorry to Clare, or Colleen if she was pushing. Almost as if they didn’t expect me to understand. It was different if they’d heard us talking, because somehow or other we set the tone. Clare and Colleen were obviously treating me as they always do – insults, squeeage and much laughter – and upon seeing that, people we met were more likely to talk to me straight. It was interesting, and Clare made mental notes as we were going along. Actually, the wheelchair proved to have unexpected benefits. It provided a talking point wherever we went, made a useful battering ram in crowds of people, and let me enjoy myself properly without leaning on my friends too much.
Equipped with wheelchair, we went to see Corin Nemec again, mainly because Colleen had forgotten the poster she wanted signing the previous trip. It was a German one that was auctioned at SG-6 (Colin Cunningham gave her twenty quid for it!) and it provided a bit of discussion, as did the wheelchair. We got some pictures of him, assured him we wouldn’t feed him cookies this time, and wheeled off.
Clare wanted a Teal’c picture, so off we went to find one. We found a rather cool stall, where there was lots of stuff, and Clare found her Teal’c picture. Colleen bought a Stargate picture too – Daniel, Sam and Teal’c in (I kid you not) Charlie’s Angels mode. She has promised to scan it in, so we shall see. It was very funny, so we stood (or sat, in my case) and giggled and looked around. We also got something for Emily, which hopefully she will like.
We went to see John Billingsley again, of course. I didn’t have much money (mainly because I bought the geek t-shirt) so we went up to the crew, told them the story of what happened the day before, and asked if they thought he would mind if we asked him for a picture. The crew found it very amusing and waved us through. He didn’t mind at all. “Remember us?” I said.
“Of course!” he yelled. He shouted a lot, actually. I told him about never washing my jeans again, and he laughed. He gleefully agreed to letting us take pictures of him, and I can’t wait ‘til they’re developed – they’re completely and utterly surreal. We thanked him, he shouted and laughed some more, and then we attempted to get out again. The wheelchair was a bit of a hindrance, so the crew removed the barriers and let us out past Brian Blessed. Who remembered us. “You again! Get the hell out of here!”
“We’re going!” I yelled back, and Clare executed a neat three point turn and swung us out of there. Colleen turned to me. “Iona, you should break your leg every convention.”
I laughed until I couldn’t breathe.
The truly ironic thing, as I noted later, is that I still have very little idea who Brian Blessed is. But he knows who I am!
The last person whose autograph we got was Brad Dourrif. Because I am not a Lord of the Rings fangirl, I have very little idea as to who he is. But Clare and Colleen went to see him, and he also appeared intrigued by the wheelchair. He was very nice, though, as everyone was. We didn’t meet a single person who wasn’t nice.
I wanted to finish off my film and so did Colleen, and so went off to take some more pictures. We went to see Clare-the-dealer again, assured her she was an integral part of our convention experience (which she was – she didn’t have to be so nice to us) and I took a picture of a sign in her shop:
Ferengi Rule #1 – Once you have money, don’t give it back.
Beats “no refunds” by a long shot.
A few pictures and goodbyes later, we left. We had to return the wheelchair first, of course, and I found I could walk with a minimal limp. I suppose on any ordinary day, I wouldn’t have needed the wheelchair. But in this kind of chaotic situation, it came in very useful.
Colleen and I had to pick up all our stuff before going to the station, and we were all pleased at the idea we were never caught by the hotel staff. As far as they know, only two (incredibly messy) people stayed in the room during the weekend. We grabbed Clare’s stuff as well as our own, and I couldn’t help giggling as Colleen picked up her cardboard cut-out. “You’re a fangirl too!” she protested. “You know Remus Lupin’s middle name!”
“Everyone does,” I pointed out, and she conceded.
“This is true.”
We arrived at the station rather early. Our original plan was to take the train to Birmingham International, and then change for Liverpool there. But there was a direct train to Liverpool that we were in time to catch, and Virgin were quite astonishingly helpful. Yes, we could take that train, they said. So we jumped on. Before we did that, though, we walked past a girl on the station platform who called, “Eowyn!”
We all turned round. Colleen explained the story of the cardboard cut-out. Of course, the girl (we never found out her name) had been to the con, and we exchanged notes on Corin Nemec, and I wish we had found out her name, but at that point the train came in.
We spent the journey in relative quiet. We were going to finish organising everything, but really, we operated under a general philosophy of what’s-yours-is-mine throughout. In the end, we gave up trying to figure out who owed what to whom, and generally assumed it all came out even. Colleen got Clare her birthday present (Brad Dourrif’s autograph), despite the fact Clare’s birthday is in November, and the shared Frescatto (ice-milkshake type things from Costa) bill was similarly something of a write-off. It was actually rather nice. I now owe Colleen a tenner and a lot of drinks.
We were all reading Discworld, as it happened. Colleen was reading The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents, Clare was reading Carpe Juggulum and I was reading A Hat Full of Sky (it’s Colleen’s – I’m borrowing it). I think we ought to go to a Discworld con at some point. We’d already decided that we are definitely going to the next (and possibly last) Wolf Stargate con, and possibly Collectormania 7. Because it was a wonderful experience, it really was. I was almost regretting my decision to go a week ago, thinking it might not be fun, but I was so wrong. All three of us enjoyed ourselves hugely, spent pretty much the whole time squeeing, and ohmygod met Jonas Quinn and Dr Phlox. Other people have fat pants. I have fandom pants.
At length, the train stopped passing through fields with cows and started passing through industrial areas. “Back to the north,” I said, and with feeling because earlier, Colleen had been gently teasing me about my lack of understanding of the fact I am a northerner. “I’m beginning to talk like you,” she said.
“I don’t have an accent,” I argued.
“No, but you have perfect received pronunciation.”
Maybe she’s right. She got me to say “bath” and “grass” and “laugh” and despaired each time. But even I know the difference between north and south, and the train passed over the division late in the evening. It coasted to a stop at Liverpool Lime Street, and I spotted my parents in the distance, waving. On my way down the platform, I looked across at my friends and saw, as if for the first time, a life-size cardboard cut-out of Miranda Otto.
In the end, we were all falling about laughing. With hugs, promises of meeting soon and paying back the money and books I owe, we took leave of each other. Having spent three days in each other’s company, you might expect us to be sick of each other, but we really weren’t. I was still laughing when Colleen and Clare had disappeared into the distance.
After all that, school and ordinary life once more, and all my waitressing money is more or less gone. But it was worth it. Always worth it.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2004-05-03 07:08 am (UTC)Do you have my notes? I seem to have lost them...
And the fic - genius!
no subject
on 2004-05-03 07:18 am (UTC)As far as I know, I don't have your notes. Have unpacked now and they haven't appeared.
And yay for fic, too. Thank you!
no subject
on 2004-05-03 09:39 am (UTC)There is a huge Sirius Black wanted poster (holographic) in the theatres here that I would kill for. We keep planning to steal it, then wimping out. We even had the perfect opportunity once, but were too busy trying to negotiate getting it by legitimate means. So don't make too much fun of the cardboard cutout thing. ;)
no subject
on 2004-05-03 09:58 am (UTC)no subject
on 2004-05-03 10:50 am (UTC)Welcome home.
no subject
on 2004-05-03 12:23 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2004-05-03 12:47 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2004-05-03 12:49 pm (UTC)We were very lucky, now I look back. I'm seriously afraid Colleen is going to injure me every time we go to a con now. I have the Bilbo Baggins song in my head just reading this... although, I am curiously tempted to find the video again. Eeek.
no subject
on 2004-05-03 12:51 pm (UTC)I tell you what. One day, I am going to descend unexepectedly and take you to a con. Even if you have no idea what's going on, they are fab. I'm planning to go to Gatecon 2005, if that tempts you at all...
no subject
on 2004-05-03 12:52 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2004-05-03 12:52 pm (UTC)Oh, I remember the days when I could get Harry Potter posters just by walking into bookshops and saying, "Can you put my name on that one for when the display is over?" Le sigh.
no subject
on 2004-05-03 01:27 pm (UTC)It does tempt me, actually. Where and when will it be?
no subject
on 2004-05-03 01:53 pm (UTC)I've half-wanted to go to one of those things for a while, but I've never been sure if they really are the domain of half-crazed Star Trek fans who dress up and have no conception of reality. Those people are just scary.
no subject
on 2004-05-03 02:02 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2004-05-03 02:23 pm (UTC)Tell you what, I'm going to tempt you on a regular basis from now until then. It'll be extremely cool. :)
no subject
on 2004-05-03 02:25 pm (UTC)You should definitely go to a con if you ever get the chance. There are some crazy people - we met some people in Starfleet uniforms, wth combadge earrings! - but I'd say most people there were just like us, fannish but not quite insane. It's like a holiday from reality, and everyone has a laugh. It's fab.
no subject
on 2004-05-04 08:05 am (UTC)Cons are on my to-do list. Very much so. When and where is the Wolf Stargate con, and Collectormania 7? If nothing else, this may be a possible back-up plan should meeting in Oxford prove impossible.
no subject
on 2004-05-04 09:19 am (UTC)The two relevant links are http://www.collectormania.com and http://www.wolfevents.com/php/, which should be more helpful.
no subject
on 2004-05-04 02:15 pm (UTC)You ARE?!
SQUEEEEEEE!!